Selcouth [G.W]

Chapter 25

I made this chapter 9000 words because I missed you guys, enjoy bestie. 

!Trigger warning!

- mention of suicide and abuse.

Saturday. October. 10th. 1995

Tacenda (n.)- Things better left unsaid; matters to be passed over in silence. 

Millie P.O.V

I've been avoiding George.

He's being weird. Okay no, he's making me feel weird things. It's confusing and I hate it. 

I don't understand why every time he looks at me, I feel my heartbeat quicken. I don't understand why it's so easy to talk to him and be near him. 

I don't like it.

So I've made the decision to avoid him, simple. It's been hard this week since I have classes with him, but I usually made an excuse to leave early before he could even flash me that fucking heartwarming smile. 

I've been skipping astronomy also. That's probably been the hardest part about this but I can't just sit beside him for an hour and 30 minutes every other night. I'd go more insane than I'm already going. 

Speaking of going insane I have yet to figure out what is wrong with me. I haven't exactly been trying to though. I've decided to avoid that too. 

So here I am in my room painting. This morning before Fred walked into the great hall for breakfast (George nowhere to be seen.) I pulled him aside and faked a cold telling him, I wasn't feeling well and that I couldn't go to Hogsmeade today.

It hurt me to see the somber expression on his face since because I'm avoiding George I'm technically avoiding Fred also. Of course, he understood and told me to feel better.

I've been cooped up in my room ever since. For the first few minutes, I did nothing but stare at myself in the mirror and overthought my existence. Which is never good, I could feel myself slipping into a depressive episode where my chest is too heavy and my appetite is nonexistent.

Frankly, I can't afford to be sad- well sadder than I already am on top of everything so instead I distracted myself by painting. 

This brings me here laid out on my floor, colors of dark blues, greys, and blacks staining the hardwood floor, my clothes and, skin. 

I lightly stroke the canvas with my brush as I hum to the song that plays softly from my record player in the corner, its I bet on losing dogs by mitski. 

In moments like these, I'm glad I packed a few of my favorite types of vinyl in my suitcase. 

 It's so easy for me to get lost in my head when I paint especially when it's paired with music. It's not the anxiety-filled lost I usually feel. Its the type of lost where your head is completely and utterly empty and you can only act on impulse and emotions. 

I haven't painted in ages. Usually, I only do sketches with little to no color. When I was younger I would only paint with vibrant colors hating that dark one's even existed. 

 Now I can't remember the last time I even used a color besides grey and black and maybe if it truly need a few darker colors that almost look black.